


A Day at the Farm

by BrainFlakes



Series: The Tyrannical Toddler [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Caregiver John Watson, Daddy John Watson, Diapers, Fluff, Infantilism, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, Toddler Sherlock, little!sherlock, nappies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-01-07 00:59:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18399911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrainFlakes/pseuds/BrainFlakes
Summary: Little Sherlock gets to spend a day out with Daddy at a Farm.Wip.





	1. Let's go

"Well if I told you where we're going, it wouldn't be a surprise when we got there, would it?"

John struggled an awkward load of bags and coats and wellies under his left arm, and held out his right hand to Sherlock, who did not take it, but instead clung to the doorframe more tightly than ever. Sensing that his Little One's behaviour was truly a reflection of anxiety rather than pure naughtiness, the caregiver put down his miscellaneous collection of things, and pulled the boy towards him for a reassuring hug.

"The journey will take about an hour and a half (that's quite a long time, but not a _really_ long time), I'm sure you'll like where we're going, and if you don't, we'll come home again."

"Promise?"

"Promise. And you can do deducing on the way there, if you like," smiled John.

Suddenly, Sherlock couldn't fasten his Velcro shoes and get out of the door too quickly! In fact, in his excitement he got his shoes on the wrong feet and his Daddy had to take them off and put them back on the right way round for him. 

"Have you got your coat? And your Bunny? And you did a wee?" Sherlock nodded to each of these, so John gathered up the discarded pile of things, and ushered himself and his boy out of the door and into the back of a waiting car.

Once Sherlock had been settled down and strapped in, John fiddled with the entertainment system, skipping albums and tracks until he found a compilation of children's songs sung in an annoyingly bright fashion. It would probably drive him mad in about 15 minutes, but a restless Little on a car journey could manage to drive him mad in less than 10 minutes. Sherlock began to hum along, joining in the bits he could remember properly with gusto:

_Hmm-hm-hm-hm, Hm-hm-hmm_

_"_ **EE-IY-EE-IY-OHH** "

_Hm-hm-hm-hm-hm, Hm-hm-hmm_

_"_ **EE-IY-EE-IY-OHH** "

"Oh," thought John, "This might not have been a good idea." He suffered through animal noises of varying levels of verisimilitude and noisy vowel sounds until the end of the song, and then turned off the music.

"Well, that was lovely singing Sherlock, but we wouldn't want you to wear out your voice, would we?"

"Another one! Another one!" The child clapped his hands in entreaty. 

"That's the end of the album. There isn't another one," lied John smoothly. "Why don't you do some deducing for Daddy? Show him what a very clever boy you are, hmm?" Predictably Sherlock swelled under the praise, and immediately forgot all about wanting to do loud singing. "Who do you think is in that van in front of us?"

"I don't  _think_ Daddy, I  _know_. That one's EASY!" And just like that, the Little Detective was off, prattling on about the drivers and passengers in the other cars on the road: the man going about his daily business as a tax inspector; the woman leaving her husband; the couple who had accidentally brought the wrong baby home from hospital in 1971 and never found out. John half-listened while scrolling through his phone to check arrangements.

After a while the boy fell quiet, mesmerised by the scenery at his window, and John fell into a semi-conscious doze, regrouping his emotional and physical energy for the day ahead. Every so often Sherlock whispered a new deduction to himself under his breath.

"Car is stole... Affaire... Needs a wee... Left the oven on... Needs a wee... Looking forward to something on Thursday... Bursting for a wee... Really bursting for a wee..."

"Driver?" John spoke through an intercom to the shielded front part of the car. "Could you pull over for a moment?"

"I think it would be a good idea if you had a go at using the potty Sherlock."

John pulled out a tin basin from under the seat, pulled down Sherlock's lower garments, and pulled the boy onto the potty just quickly enough to stave off disaster. It seemed as if the torrent would never end, but eventually it did, and John asked quietly

"Why did you lie to me Sherlock?"

The Little Detective maintained what he felt was a dignified silence, sitting on his tin throne with his trousers round his ankles.

"Hmm? You didn't have a wee when I told you to, did you?"

"..."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to have a smacked bottom. Why are you going to have a smacked bottom? Well?"

"Because I nearly had an accident?"

"No, an accident is an accident: it's not naughty, and Daddy wouldn't be cross about that. Ever. So what did you do that was naughty?"

"Nothing?"

"No. You disobeyed Daddy, and then you lied about it. I told you to go to the toilet before we left the flat, and you clearly didn't, but then when I asked you, you said you did! Why did you do that?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time?" queried Sherlock, assuming the usual reason supplied by his caregiver would be correct on this occasion as on so many others.

John had the wind taken out of his sails by this unexpectedly accurate reply, and had to swiftly turn a laugh into a cough, before returning to his lecture.

"I told you to go before we left for a good reason! You're wearing a pull-up darling, and it isn't as strong as a big nappy. When I got you ready this morning your night-time nappy was dry, so I knew a pull-up would leak if you let all that go in it. Then you'd be soggy and stinky all day, and there would be nothing I could do about it. I know you're only little and you can't be expected to take care of potty things on your own, but you are big enough to do as you're told, and to tell the truth. So why are you going to get a smack?

"I did a bad thing and then I told a bad thing," answered Sherlock in a small voice, looking down at his bare knees.

"That's right. Ok, have you completely finished?"

Keen to be good now, Sherlock tinkled out a few extra drops to be on the safe side, and then nodded sadly.

"Right. Stand up. Well, yeah, get up then." The tall Little half stood / half crouched while John cleaned him up with a wipe.

"Sit there."

John got out of the car to empty the pot. He returned with a solemn face.

"Come here. Over my lap." He stroked the boy's hair for a moment to remind him he was still loved although he was being punished. Then the father raised his hand, and smacked his friend twice quickly across his bare behind.

"Ok, all over now. Let's pull up your trousers and get you sitting comfortably."

John pulled him in to a reassuring side hug, and as his baby nestled wearily against his shoulder, the good Doctor leant towards the intercom.

"Thanks driver. Let's get back on our way to the farm."


	2. Chapter 2

"We're going to a FARM?" asked Sherlock, eyes round with wonder.

"Gah! It was meant to be a secret!" exclaimed John, realising he had given the game away.

"Silly Daddy!" laughed the Little Detective. "You tolded me by mistake."

"At least you didn't deduce it. That's a bit of a win, yeah?"

"OLD MacDONald HAD a FARM... OINK OINK OINK OINK OINK OIN..."

John hurried to put on the album again.

"Now, let's see how quietly we can sing, shall we?"

The boy looked unconvinced by this rather disingenuous suggestion.

"It can be a competition between us," added the Caregiver swiftly.

"I always win our compretishuns."

"Yes, you're my very clever little boy. Let's see if you can beat me this time. Shh, now."

Both started to sing in an exaggeratedly quiet manner, John's voice in particular becoming softer and gentler as he subtly turned down the volume of the sound system too. Sherlock was becoming a little mumbly by the end of the song, but the good Doctor's hops that he might drift off for a morning nap were dashed at the end of the song.

"DID I WIN DADDY? DID I WIN?"

"Indoor voices Sherlock."

" _Did I win?_ " he whispered.

"You were really good, but I think it's really hard to tell who won. Let's do best of three."

 


End file.
